


In the Grave

by Bape1852



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Humor, Bisexual Female Character, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Jealous Clarke, Jealous Lexa, M/M, Murder, Protective Octavia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 14:27:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10164974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bape1852/pseuds/Bape1852
Summary: “No.” Clarke looks up at the black November night. Despite her answer, she knows it’s her only option. She hears a loud snap, like an old polaroid camera capturing a photograph.It comes from the crime scene. Octavia has her foot on the arm of the dead boy one moment, snaps it like a twig in the next. The sickening sound causes the girl to become hysterical.The Delinquents find themselves in a disastrous situation - Finn is dead. Clarke Griffin does everything she can to keep this from uprooting their fragile college student lives - to keep everyone out of jail. She will do anything to protect the one she loves, but will it be enough? With her girlfriend Lexa Woods, she just might have a chance, but at what cost?





	

**Author's Note:**

> My college fund - https://www.gofundme.com/pink-matter-donations  
> Follow me on tumblr here - https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bape1852

She’s screaming.

 _He’s dead. God, Help him!_ She pleads, _Pleas-_

“Shut the fuck up!”

 More yelling. _Great_. The police department would easily learn who murdered Finn Collins before the soft light of day  ever hit these old evergreen trees.

Clarke walks over to the screaming girl, clasps her face between the clammy palms of her hands.

“You need to stop,” She tells the girl.  Her frightened face makes her look innocent, as if they hadn’t just blown her boyfriend six feet from hell.

“Call Lexa.” The girl whimpers.

“No.” Clarke looks up at the black November night. Despite her answer, she knows it’s her only option. She hears a loud snap, like an old polaroid camera capturing a photograph.

It comes from the crime scene. Octavia has her foot on the arm of the dead boy one moment, snaps it like a twig in the next. The sickening sound causes the girl to become hysterical.

“Raven, _quiet_.” It’s all Clarke can manage to say.  

“We need to burn the body.” Octavia says, voice even as she takes her hand and wipes the sweat from her brow. She circles the dead body, finds the last good arm, and snaps it. _Hard._

“No – NO, we . . . we _need_ to call the police. Or – or, Lexa. She’ll _help_ us,” The girl says. She’s pacing now. Her tiny almond eyes are almost yellow, glazed over and wrought with reckless emotion.

  _Fuck_ , Clarke thinks. _I can’t do this, I can’t fucking do this. At least –at least not alone._

She pulls out her phone and dials the second number in her contact list.

* * *

 

Lexa Woods is sitting in Cline Library working on a midterm paper that is due before the weekend is over. She’d spent the entire day there so, naturally, that’s where she is when Clarke Griffin finds her, sitting in the one chair by the criminal section wearing a camisole and reading an old issue of _The Philadelphia Bulletin_.

Clarke pauses, not entirely sure if she should interrupt Lexa. She’d learned early on how the law student can be where coursework is involved. She decides to continue. Lexa is startled when she feels a pleasant kiss on her cheek.

“Clarke.” Lexa beams. “I thought you were staying late in the science lab.” She checks her watch. “It’s only 7’o’clock.”

Clarke takes the papers in hand, and sits down on Lexa’s lap. “Honestly, I couldn’t wait to see you.” That much was true. She’d traded a boring biology lab for the company of her brilliant girlfriend. And, truthfully, she had missed her.

Lexa leans back and laces her hands behind her neck, looking over at the stack of books she’d planned on reading that night. She needs a break anyways, midterms were approaching quickly. If she couldn’t take a moment to relax now, she would never find the time.

Lexa shakes her head and chuckles. “Alright. What do you have in mind?”

* * *

 

They find themselves in Hanley Hall, admiring the pieces of art hanging in the corridors. Lexa lifts the flap of her jacket to reveal a paper bag. It has the infamous golden arch plastered on the front side, and the slogan, _I’m Lovin’ It_ just beneath.

Clarke eyes the contraband. “I thought you threw that out,” She whispers. “It’s not allowed in here.” Despite her words she snatches the bag from Lexa’s fingers. It contains the remnants of a large fry, a half-eaten Big Mac, and a warm apple pie.

“It’s not allowed in here,” Lexa mocks. She’s loud and giggly. Her eyes are bloodshot. She reeks of marijuana.

Clarke giggles alongside her lover. “Alright, enough fun. Let’s get you home.”

“But _Clarke,_ ” Lexa whines. “We just got here, don’t you wanna look at the art?” She bursts out laughing.

Clarke speaks, voice just above a whisper. “You are so beautiful Lexa Woods.” Lexa just stares at her eyes widened in disbelieving shock. She grabs Clarke’s hand, and, between mouthfuls of giggles, says “I love you.”

They make their way home in the dead of night.

* * *

 

That was Clarke’s life a little over a week ago. How it all went to shit so quickly is anyone’s best guess.

“Do you have it?” Wells walks around the bed of the truck. The limp in his left leg is noticeable. “Octavia?”

“What!”

“Do you have the lighter fluid?” He yells in the loudest whisper he can muster.

Clarke used to like Wells. He was a good person. Once in kindergarten he had helped her put Neosporin on a skinned knee that had been the result of a game of Parachute in gym class. The nurse had ended up lecturing them both on the importance of allowing the adult to handle adult business like skinned knees, but it was the thought that counted.

“Would I be standing here if I didn’t have the lighter fluid?” Octavia yell whispers back. She ripped a match from the matchbook and whisks it against the striker.

“WAIT.” Octavia turns around to glare at Clarke. “Check his pockets.”

“For what?” She asks.

“For anything that won’t take to the fire.” Clarke felt very sharp and in control, despite the impending circumstances. She turned to Raven who was sniffling quietly next to the ground.

“Rae . . .” Clarke started.

“No Clarke. No.” Raven stared up at her, pale, her eyes terrified.

“We need to call the po–”

“No. And you know why?” She shook her head.

“Because we’ll go to jail.”

Clarke wasn’t entirely sure of that truth, but it shut Raven up. It was a muddy situation, but then again that’s probably how all murders happened. In the muddy broken parts of the brain. The part that can’t tell the difference between love and jealousy.  

Octavia tosses something – a wallet and – it looks like – a phone, and a watch to the side. She takes a step back, takes another match, lights it and throws it in before anyone can detest again. The flame catches immediately. The watch glints off the light of the fire.


End file.
